


opskrift på ensomhed

by CampionSayn



Series: Goretober 2020 [11]
Category: All the Dirty Parts - Daniel Handler (Books)
Genre: Flash Fiction, M/M, Post-Canon, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: The crappy coffee from the anonymous meeting was in a puddle, the recycled cardboard underfoot.
Relationships: Cole/Alec, past Cole/Grisaille Avelar
Series: Goretober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949095
Kudos: 1





	opskrift på ensomhed

"Can't say I'm surprised about this, but yikes."  
  
  
When the voice speaks plain and obvious, Cole doesn't look up from the mess at his feet; the recycled paper cup, the puddle of disgusting coffee staining his Timberlands, the glass he'd been clutching in one hand streaked with blood from his other hand in three pieces.  
  
The meeting had been as good as any other, his time in SAA hadn't dragged as much as it had since he'd started the year before, he'd almost been willing to take the floor for once.  
  
But the girl who had gone up before him stood with the same shape of eyes, of hair, of skin as the resident of most of his triggers into walking into a bar and finding someone--anyone--to get his dick wet. She didn't sound the same, she had an accent completely different (maybe West Virginia?) and when she gave into temptation, she preferred girls.  
  
But he still had to leave early, stumbling over the steps outside the out of the way brick complex the meetings were held in, the repetition of reasons not to give in slithering through his head like a multitude of blind white snakes. His bronze medallion in his pocket clinking against the key to his bike lock the next block over.  
  
  
Cole really didn't remember spotting the glass and reverting to an older kind of coping he did in high school when he really knew he had a problem and not just a reputation.  
  
  
Tanned fingers find his pale hand, familiar and warm and probably the best reminder of the only good relationship he'd ever had; kind eyes tracing the scars from the back of his hand to his inner arm that amounted to diamonds and leaves, feathers and flowers, and an ace of hearts inside where he'd bitten as hard as he could into his arm to stop screaming after high school graduation.  
  
  
Alec pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wadding it up and dabbed dutifully at the blood at his fingertips, patient as the last time they'd seen each other.  
  
That anxiety over the girl from the meeting and the girl from overseas deflated and seemed to have been punched out of Cole by the touch; his shoulders finding their place along his ears and the urge to run niggling inside him. That familiar worm inside the tower.  
  
  
Of course Cole was set upon by the feeling of being unworthy. Of all the (seventy-two) people he'd found to make amends with due to his addiction, Alec had been the one he couldn't find, couldn't get a hold of, kept leaving messages for in old familiar chat sites he wasn't even sure would make any difference.  
  
"Your roommate told me where to find you," he explained, feeling tremors running along Cole's fingers and palms, meeting his eyes with something like the saddest kind of smile, "Try not to hold it against her; I just wanted to see you."  
  
  
"...Why?"  
  
  
"Been missing you."


End file.
